


Rookie Season

by elenajames



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Injury, M/M, Open Relationships, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: The rookies always room together.





	

The rookies room together. That’s just how it is. So when Travis stays home and Weal gets called up, Ivan isn’t surprised that they’re roommates. What he is surprised by is how much Weal looks like TK on the ice. There’s enough similarity that Ivan does a double take during practice, just to make sure that the number on his helmet isn’t 11. He finds himself looking for Travis out of habit, instinctive need to make sure he’s as safe as he can be during the game, that yet another guy hasn’t taken exception to Travis’ cocky smile and shitty chirps, but he only finds Weal.

 

“Hey, uh. You okay?” Weal asks, standing next to Ivan’s seat on the plane.

 

He isn’t. They’re losing - a lot - and tonight was just another loss that shouldn’t have been, another loss they can’t afford. But Weal looks earnest, if tired, and Ivan can’t find it in himself to brush him off. He shakes his head.

 

“May I?”

 

And usually Ivan shares with Travis, but Travis isn’t here, so he nods anyway. To his surprise, Weal - Jordan - doesn’t say much right away. He presses a little close, gets comfortable. “We’ll get it. You’re playing good hockey, you know?”

 

Ivan nods, quiet, but Jordan’s words are heartfelt, even if they don’t do much to ease the tension in Ivan’s chest. Nothing else is said, but Jordan’s solid, warm presence is a comfort anyway. Ivan’s not expecting fingers to slide between his own, or the blanket that gets dropped over their laps. Jordan squeezes his hand, looking curious but not asking outright to avoid drawing attention. Ivan squeezes back and settles in for a nap, the two of them propped up against each other and the seats.

 

Later, they tumble groggily into the hotel and up to their room, only looking at each other for a moment before dumping the bags on the bed near the window and going about their bedtime routines. Jordan takes first turn in the bathroom, working fast so they can just get to sleep. He’s there, in _their_ bed, tousle-headed and mostly buried beneath the covers when Ivan finishes up.

 

Ivan’s tugging on shorts and trying not to actually fall asleep on his feet when his phone buzzes on the bedside. It’s Travis, with a little frowny face emoji, a _sorry_ and a heart behind that. He taps out a response, not sure that the tiny icons can really capture all he feels, but he knows that Travis understands as well as anyone can.

 

“You really like him, huh?” Jordan’s voice startles him a bit, enough that he fumbles his phone putting it down and it clatters on the bedside table. “Shit, sorry, should I?”

 

Jordan tries to sit up, but Ivan nudges him until he lays back down, both of them settling beneath the sheets. They weren’t strangers, per se, not after camp, but Ivan’s still not sure how they wound up here so quickly. Jordan cuddles up to his side, warm and solid in his arms.

 

“I do. We’ve been friends for awhile, now.”

 

“And the rest? Like, am I, ah, messing things up for you?”

 

“No. He knows. We both see other people.” Ivan had called Travis up, just to be sure; it hadn’t been easy to explain, to find the words to sum up his loneliness and frustration, but Travis was lonely and frustrated, too; there were guys back in Philly he could turn to and Jordan - Jordan’s one of them. He’s _team_ and that’s important.

 

“Mmm. Is this okay then?” Jordan pushes up, presses their mouths together and it’s soft and sweeter than Ivan had figured on. They don’t go much beyond making out, bodies sore and worn out. Both of them sleep hard, and it takes G pounding on the door to even get them up and ready for breakfast.

 

* * *

 

“Here.” Ivan holds out his noise-cancelling headphones. Jordan’s wincing at even the low-level chatter in the plane. The trainers don’t think it’s a concussion, but Jordan’s in pain regardless. “Just for the sound.”

 

With a worn-out sigh, Jordan accepts them, gingerly settling them on his head. He leans into Ivan once the plane has taken off, closing his eyes and eventually drifting off. Ivan meets G’s eyes across the rows, getting a raised eyebrow that he answers with one of his own. G just shakes his head, turning back to his conversation with Raff.

 

Still, there’s a ping of his phone as they’re disembarking, and Ivan’s not surprised to see a text from G. _Let me know if either of you need to talk._

 

“He’s a good captain, eh?” Jordan murmurs, showing Ivan an identical message on his phone before they’re bundled on to the waiting bus.

 

Vancouver is a win, a _thank God_ all around, and even though two points out of six isn’t great, it’s still nice to go home with a couple more under their belt. Philly means Jordan can get checked out for real, and Philly - most of all - means Travis.

 

He looks grumpy when he answers the door of his apartment, balancing on crutches. Ivan tries not to think too much of how Travis lights up when he realizes who’s at the door.

 

“Hey. Come in.”

 

Hanging back to close the door, Ivan lets Travis lead him into the now-familiar apartment. He huffs a laugh at the nest Travis has obviously built for himself on the couch.

 

“Shut up. C’mere?” Travis holds his arms out, still pouting a little and Ivan wants to kiss him.

 

“You tell me to shut up and yet want me to come close. You’re sending mixed signals.” He drops on the couch anyway, letting Travis pull him in close and blushing when a soft kiss gets pressed to his temple.

 

“Missed you. How was the trip?”

 

“You know,” Ivan murmurs.

 

He can feel Travis sigh and closes his eyes as hands rake up through his hair. “I know how the games went. How was the trip? How was Jordan?”

 

“Jordan was . . . nice. We slept together but,” Ivan shrugs and Travis gives a little hum. “He’s going to be out, now. That hit wasn’t good.”

 

“Not a concussion, though?”

 

“The trainers didn’t think so.”

 

Their conversation drifts to Travis’ recovery, the light workouts the trainers are helping him with, designed to not strain his knee or ankle; and what he’s been up to while the team was on the road. Slowly, he shuffles them around until they’re practically lying down, his bad leg gingerly placed between them.

 

“I missed you, too,” Ivan says at last, dipping in to catch Travis’ mouth.

 

“I’m sorry I wasn't there,” Travis whispers back; all Ivan can do is sigh and cradle him closer.

 

“It’s not your fault. You’ll be back, and we’ll finish the season together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Care to chat? I take prompts over at [tumblr](http://iaintafraidofnoghostbear.tumblr.com/).


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